Forgive Me
by volley
Summary: Friend in Need. Trip disappears during a first contact. But that's not why he's saying sorry to Malcolm.


Another Friend in Need, though this is no added scene.

RoaringMice beta read it. Thank you!

* * *

"And from here you can enjoy one of the nicest views over…"

Trip let the words fade into the background as their guide led Archer and the rest of the away party to the centre of the small square they had walked up to. The view that opened up from there over the wide valley below was undoubtedly breath-taking, but… What the heck, it wasn't all that different from many you could enjoy on Earth.

Turning to lean over the metal rail at the top of the stairs they had just climbed, Trip looked back at the winding road below, which lost itself between the asymmetrical houses.

The old centre of this town: now _that_ was something; something out of a fairy-tale book. Clutching to the hill on which it was built like a frightened toddler to its mother, the old town was a maze of curved roads that left you forever wondering what could be hiding around the next bend. Its narrow streets and colourful houses, its archways and towers, and half-hidden stairways connecting the different levels in a network of amazing shortcuts, made it an incredible place to visit – if only one were free to wander off alone.

Trip wondered if medieval villages in centuries past had been something like this. Maybe not as clean and organised – he decided. But certainly, for all its high-rises and grand avenues, the modern part of this alien city, stretching amply down on the plain, didn't hold half the fascination of these old stones.

Turning and leaning lazily back, Trip glanced at the group in the square, some ten metres away. Right in the middle of the alien dignitaries, Archer was smiling a satisfied smile, intently listening to the guide's explanation. T'Pol had her hands latched behind her back, her face as straight as usual. Hoshi seemed to be soaking up every word the man was saying, more interested in the new language than in the new panorama. Poor Travis had been left with the Shuttlepod, on the insistence of Malcolm, who stood, as expected, a step away from the group. Nothing new there: right hand never too far away from the butt of his phase pistol, the man wasn't letting himself be distracted, keeping everything and everybody well under control. At some point their eyes met, and Trip could tell the Security Officer wasn't very pleased about the fact that he – Trip – had remained behind; separate from the group.

Tough luck – Trip thought unmercifully. He didn't feel like company, today. He had been in a despondent mood since morning, for some reason.

Yeah – some reason. Trip bit the inside of his cheek. More like _one_, very specific reason. Today, his sister Elizabeth would have turned… He had to think for a moment, which sent a stab through his chest – could time have gone by so quickly? – Yes, thirty-one.

Today Trip had wanted to work quietly in Engineering, lose himself in routine. And instead Archer had wanted the senior staff down on the planet, for this first contact. Trip had got this close to faking some sudden illness; only his sense of duty and a certain reluctance to spoil Archer's excitement had held him back. Finally, long after the Xindi, the Captain had found a hint of his old enthusiasm again, and Trip had not wanted to start an argument – their friendship was not nearly as close as it had been at the beginning of their mission.

Well, he might have joined the party, but he wasn't going to be all smiles and cheerfulness; not when his heart felt like a big, heavy stone.

Malcolm's steely gaze sought him out again; it captured Trip like a tractor beam, and he turned irritably the other way, back to the winding road that, with its dark shadows and desertedness fit his current mood so aptly.

Suddenly a door flung open, and a child ran out, screeching. Long, unkempt hair to the middle of her back, she looked about six years old. Trip tensed, not sure what was going on; but a second later another child followed, this one laughing wildly. He stood a couple of inches taller than her, and the two started running, chasing each other, raising a din like only kids can.

Trip's mouth curved into a bittersweet smile – kids will be kids, on any planet, apparently. Soon, though, his eyes were misting. He bit his lip, but the surge of emotion seemed incontrollable. Damn, he couldn't do this! He was a Starfleet Officer, the third in command, on an away mission…

No, not today. No blue uniform, no pips could make him feel that, today. Today he was only a man whose wound had painfully reopened, a brother who needed to stop and remember. They couldn't ask him to be Commander Tucker today.

The first tear overflowed and he scrunched his eyes shut, sending more salty drops running down his cheeks. He couldn't let them see…

Damn! Everyone had a right to grieve in private.

Flashing his eyes open, Trip shot a quick look behind him. Malcolm was turned the other way. He grabbed the rail, and before he could think twice was running down the stairs.

* * *

Malcolm was thoroughly pissed off. As if Archer weren't enough to make his life difficult – him and his brilliant idea to take the entire senior staff down to the planet! – Trip seemed bent on doing his best to aggravate him even more. All right, the man had clearly got up on the wrong side of the bed today; he hadn't been his usual light-hearted self, but that didn't give him the right to do whatever he wanted, like standing apart from…

Malcolm turned to shoot the Commander another meaningful look, and bit back a curse: he was no longer there.

A quick glance confirmed that their guide was still in the middle of his lecture, pointing with one outstretched arm to all the sites of interest both in the city stretching below and on the mountains in the far distance; his crewmates were totally absorbed.

Unobtrusively, Malcolm stepped away a couple of meters; then jogged lightly to the spot where Trip had been up to a moment before. He leaned over the rail, looking right and left, and down the winding street. Where in the bloody hell was the man? All he could see were two children chasing each other, playing way too loudly for the good of the neighbourhood. Good heavens, had they no parents?

Fuming and beginning to feel the well-known knot forming in his stomach, Malcolm reached for his communicator. "Reed to Tucker." Seconds ticked by. "Come in, Commander." Silence. "Damn it, Trip, will you answer?"

"If you follow me this way, now," the guide suddenly said, "I will show you the oldest building; it dates back to before the Great Shake, which is nothing short of a miracle if you consider that…"

Brow knit in a frown, Malcolm followed the group with a concerned gaze as it started towards another narrow alley, which wound its way up to an even higher spot.

He should inform the Captain, let the man know he had lost sight of one of their group. Lovely prospect – he thought with a wince. But he _must_ inform the Captain.

As he took the first determined steps towards the party, T'Pol caught his movement and turned to him. Their eyes locked; her eyebrows went up. The Vulcan Officer let herself slip to the back of the group, and Malcolm veered towards her.

"Lieutenant?"

"Trip got separated from us," Malcolm said quietly. "I believe he wandered off on his own."

T'Pol's eyebrows went a notch higher.

Malcolm clenched his jaw, trying to hide his anger. "I paged him, but he's not answering my hails."

The group, with Archer and Hoshi obliviously among them, was already approaching the next bend in the road. T'Pol shot a look in their direction; then turned back.

"Look for him," she ordered.

"But the Captain…" Malcolm started, grimacing. His first and foremost duty was to keep _him_ safe, after all. And what about Hoshi, and even T'Pol herself? Was he supposed to leave the flock to look for a wayward black sheep?

"Vulcans have known the Qerpa for many years," T'Pol replied with quiet conviction. "They are a peaceful people. We will not be in danger."

"With all due respect, Commander–"

"I shall inform Captain Archer of the circumstances at the earliest convenience, Lieutenant," T'Pol uncharacteristically cut him off. "You have your orders."

Malcolm studied the dark eyes before him. They had changed a lot in these four years. Especially during and after the Expanse. It used to be that no one could tell what the Vulcan Officer was thinking; now feelings were not so alien to her gaze. Right now he could see concern in T'Pol's eyes; even a silent plea. She and Trip had been more or less close; and rumour had it that they were able to sense each other's feelings.

"Very well," he relented, though none too pleased. "I will keep you posted."

T'Pol nodded in what looked like a silent 'thank you'. A moment later she was hurrying after the group.

Malcolm watched her climb the steep road with enviable agility and catch up with the group just as it was disappearing. Heaving a sigh, he returned to the stairs where Trip had been just moments before, unzipped his left pocket and reached for his scanner. He switched it on and slowly started down the steps, moving the device in a circular motion before him. On the last-but one step he paused. A blip had appeared. At least for once technology was going to help. Although in that maze of alleys, he'd have to do his share of work to find his quarry.

"What are you doing?"

Malcolm lifted his gaze. A boy that could have been nine or ten – one of the two noise-makers from before – looked at him with intrigued alien eyes. His friend, or perhaps sister, stood more timidly at some distance, one finger in her mouth, face tilted to one side. Other features fleeted across Malcolm's mind: Madeline had always put her index finger in her mouth, driving their hygiene-fanatic mother to distraction.

Refocusing on the boy, Malcolm wondered idly if at his age he would have had the boldness to walk up to a perfect stranger – and an alien at that – to ask what they were doing. He wouldn't have dreamt of it – he decided – if only for the very good reason that his father would have–

"Whatcha doing?" the boy asked again. He was clearly beginning to wonder if this strange man before him was endowed with vocal chords; or any intelligence.

"I am looking for someone," Malcolm replied, his voice coming out rather unfriendly. Kids this uninhibited weren't all that likeable, in his humble opinion.

"I know who your friend is," the boy said; he cast a look back at his playmate. The girl broke into a smile that lit her face.

"Do you know where he's gone?" Malcolm enquired, eyes shifting from one to the other. Perhaps these two pests would end up being useful.

The girl took a tentative step forward. "I don't think he wants you to know," she said in a very small voice, with innocent candour.

_You don't say_. Lowering on his haunches to be at the right eye level, Malcolm licked his lips. "What makes you think that: have you spoken to him?"

The girl slowly shook her head while her very light eyes, of a blue that had a hint of violet in it, remained fixed into Malcolm's.

Suddenly the boy pointed to a road that branched off from the main one the group had walked on their way up. "He went that way," he said, receiving a would-be unobtrusive kick in the shin from his friend for it.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, studying the two for a moment, before glancing back at the scanner and its blip. _Little rascals_ – he mused, trying not to dwell on the fact that they had chosen to side with Trip, for some reason.

"My instrument tells me he is somewhere over there," he countered with a meaningful lift of the eyebrows, pointing to an alley opposite the direction he had been indicated.

The boy scowled; the girl bit her lip; neither spoke.

With a sigh, Malcolm pushed back up to a standing position. "Well, thank you for your help," he muttered. Side-stepping the two, he walked up to where the alley began, a narrow and rather dark little street sloping down and leading God-knew-where. For a moment he wondered what was so attractive about it that Trip had chosen it for his solo wanderings. Like most of the old town, it looked deserted. Malcolm raised his scanner and gauged the distance. Trip seemed to be some four-hundred metres from there.

"Was he bad?"

Malcolm turned. The boy, who had spoken, held his Lieutenant Reed stare without a flinch.

"Look," he told him. "I have no time for this. So, if you don't mind..."

He started along the alley, rolling his eyes in frustration when he heard the sound of steps following him.

"Of course he was bad," he heard the girl say, not quietly enough. "That's why he ran away. Like when we go hide so mom won't find us."

"I wonder what punishment he'll give him," the boy whispered back.

Malcolm swivelled to face them again. "Listen, I'm not out to punish anyone," he said deadpan. "Why don't you two return to your games? I'm only trying to find a friend."

The girl's face lit up in another, rather endearing – he had to admit it – smile. "You want to say sorry to him," she said knowingly.

"Sorry?" Malcolm snorted. "Sorry for what?" Shaking his head, he turned about and resumed walking. "_He_'s the one who ought to say sorry," he added under his breath.

Why was he wasting time with two impudent kids?

"Was it you who made him cry?"

Malcolm came to a screeching halt. "What did you say?" he asked, turning once more.

"Ayla! Horji!"

The girl jerked back towards the distant voice calling; the boy held Malcolm's gaze, boring into him with curious eyes.

"Come on," his sister urged, pulling him by a sleeve. "We're late."

"Cry?" Malcolm repeated, retracing a couple of steps. But the two were no longer paying him any attention.

"Watch out," the boy said dangerously, making his sister screech. "The wicked Whyeh is back!"

A moment later they were running away, loud as ever. Malcolm couldn't restrain a smile. Brothers would be brothers. Though if he ever had children of his own…

His smile fell; but he wouldn't.

As he turned back to his scanner, a frown creased his brow. What would he find when he finally got to that blip?

* * *

Trip heard steps behind him and knew it was Malcolm; and that his friend was giving him a little warning, for the man was more than capable of making a silent approach, if he wanted to.

Sitting on a boundary wall, legs dangling on the outer side over a steep ravine, hands grabbing its edge on each side, Trip didn't move, his gaze lost in the distance. It might not be as spectacular a view as the one their guide had taken them to, with those impressive mountains gracing the horizon, but the quietness here more than made up for it; and this endless plain, on which the sun, piercing through the clouds, drew stark effects of light and shade, was actually soothing. Like looking at the sea.

Elizabeth had liked the sea.

"Trip," Malcolm finally said.

His tone was unexpectedly calm; almost cautious. Trip wondered if the man had been afraid to startle him; a fall down the side of this hill woudn't do his health any good.

"I had hoped you'd take a little longer," Trip replied, without turning. "So I'd enjoy another few moments of freedom."

"Freedom? What in heaven's name does that mean?" Malcolm came back, carefully keeping in check the irritation he surely felt. "We are not on shore leave, Commander."

The last word, though, gave him away. When Malcolm called him _Commander_, these days, it was either with a smile on his lips or through a clenched jaw. For sure now it wasn't the former.

"I needed some time on my own," Trip snapped, turning to cast Malcolm a hard look. "Can't someone have a —"

Cutting himself off, he jerked back; he had suddenly remembered that his face probably still carried the evidence of tears. He scrunched his eyes shut and waited for the predictable "what's wrong". Gratefully, it didn't come, though it hovered in the air.

After what must have been at least a minute, Trip heard a communicator being flicked open.

"I have found the Commander," Malcolm quietly informed T'Pol.

She replied with something, but Trip didn't catch it because Malcolm had turned away from him. The two exchanged a few indistinct beats.

Silence fell again; or better, a contrived lack of sound. No longer comforting, no longer easy to bear, Trip felt it pressing on him, pushing him into a corner.

"Today Elizabeth would've been thirty-one," he blurted out, rather gracelessly. There, he had answered the unspoken question.

Finally moving, Malcolm came up to the wall and rested his palms flat on it. Trip saw him lean forward to gauge the steep decline below, peppered with rocks and bushes; then turn to give him a long assessing look.

"I didn't know," Malcolm said simply, if a touch tentatively.

His hesitance – clearly reticence to intrude – was enough to disarm Trip's irritation. Their eyes met briefly, before they both shifted them away.

Come to think of it, this wasn't the first time the two of them had stood looking into an abyss. That other time Trip had been numb with shock, and Malcolm had stayed close to him, an awkward but comforting presence. That other time Trip's wound had been too fresh for anyone to touch it – no matter how good their intentions. Malcolm had reached out, and had come away scathed. No wonder he was going easy now.

"I'm sorry," Trip croaked out. Three little words. Three little _difficult_ words. Long overdue.

Malcolm heaved a breath. "You could have told us something, instead of taking off like that," he replied darkly. "Or at least answered my hails. You know that I worry during away missions."

Trip shook his head. "I mean that time, after Elizabeth's death… It wasn't fair of me to..." He bit his lip. "Forgive me?"

The grey eyes blinked in surprise; then responded, even before the first word had left Malcolm's lips, mellowing.

"There is nothing to forgive," Malcolm said in a deep voice that managed to make the commonplace words poignant.

"There is," Trip put in quickly. "I was an arrogant bastard. No matter what."

He forced himself to hold his friend's gaze. Malcolm bore into him; but in the end it was he who looked away first; down at his hands, frowning imperceptibly.

"Do you think I don't know how easy it is, when you're hurting badly, to lash out and hurt back in turn?" Malcolm said quietly. "You are forgiven; have been for a long time."

Whatever that meant – the first part – Trip knew it was something Malcolm wouldn't have shared with just anyone; a testimony to their friendship, even more than the rest of his words.

Another silence fell. They could hear the rustling of the leaves and grasses, for a breeze had lifted. A flock of birds sped through, designing erratic changes of course.

They had walked though the woods – he, Lizzie, their mom and dad – picking leaves, watching birds.

"Damn, but I miss them," Trip blurted out wistfully. "Not only Lizzie. My family. Today they'll all be together." He swallowed hard, finishing under his breath, "At least they have each other to lean on."

Malcolm slowly nodded; then cleared his throat. "It must be nice," he said. At Trip's questioning frown, he expounded, "To have a normal family."

What that meant, exactly, Trip didn't know; but he had a pretty good idea. He knew – had surmised – that the Reeds were not particularly demonstrative, and that Malcolm's relationship with his father was strained.

"There is no _normal_ or _abnormal_, with families," he commented, not knowing what else to say, but quite convinced of the truth of it. "Just _different_."

Malcolm lifted his eyebrows in what looked like sarcastic resignation. "Different. Right," he muttered, almost to himself.

Trip let it go. There was too much on his heart right now.

After a long moment Malcolm spoke again. "There must be something… _comforting_ in missing someone close," he said, darting Trip a quick but intense glance. "The certainty that a strong bond exists." He tightened his lips. "Or existed," he finished awkwardly.

Trip felt a knot form in his throat, but the edge of his grief actually began to soften. Yeah, he may not be able to share his pain with his loved ones today, but he knew they would always be there for each other, even when light years physically separated them. And he had his memories, moments he would forever cherish, to help him get through the rough spots.

He also had this friend. He turned to the quiet man beside him. Malcolm's words had hidden a bitter core.

"You don't miss them?" he dared. "Your family?"

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Not like you do, I suppose."

He looked away, and Trip knew it was all he would say on the subject.

Some stormy clouds were gathering in the distance. The wind had picked up a little. For a long time they looked at the changing light – grey spreading over the horizon – without feeling the need to fill the silence.

"What did it feel like to have a son?" Malcolm unexpectedly asked. "Lorian."

Trip shifted position, turning to sit astride the wall, taking his time to answer. Meeting that other Enterprise, in the Expanse, had been quite surreal. Lorian, the son that he and T'Pol had had – _would have_? Damn if he understood it – in a hypothetical future, or universe, had left him with bittersweet feelings.

"It was weird," he breathed out. "To be honest, he didn't _feel_ much like my son. Maybe we didn't have enough time together to develop a bond; maybe it was the fact that he was older than me… I don't know. Surely having a son must mean watchin' him grow, spending time with him, playin', teachin' him about life; even sharing some healthy disagreements... Lorian just… he was just there one day, and I had no memories of having done any of those things with him."

Malcolm gave a soft mirthless snort. "I was the only one who had not married."

Trip narrowed his eyes. "That bothers you?" He wouldn't have thought so.

"I had never much thought about it, up to then."

"And now?"

Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest. "I can't help wondering what it says about me."

"Maybe it simply says that you hadn't found the right person," Trip said with a shrug. "Haven't you thought of that?"

A grimace fleeted over Malcolm's face. "Or that I had cowered out."

Trip turned to face him fully. "Malcolm, if there's someone who doesn't cower out, that's you."

There was a mirthless huff. "Not when it comes to… If only I could be certain not to repeat…"

Pursing his lips to keep things inside – as his usual – Malcolm looked away; but he had said enough, and Trip suddenly realised just how lucky he was, even today, even with that heavy painful thing sitting in the middle of his chest. At least he did not fear being unable to form a loving bond with a son that may never be born.

"No two relationships are the same," he said, trying to give back a little of the comfort he had received. "And if there is a lesson we have learned in space, it is that the future is not written in stone."

He didn't know if the words had done anything to help his friend, for the man was still turned the other way, gaze lost in the distance.

"I think we'd better go," Malcolm suddenly said, darting back a look. He jerked his chin towards the approaching thunder clouds. "Or we'll get caught in the storm."

Trip let himself slide off the wall. They started in silence up the narrow alley, at a brisk pace. The smell of rain was already in the air.

"Why didn't you tell the Captain?" Malcolm quietly enquired, when they were already almost back at the main street. "I'm sure he would have let you remain on Enterprise."

Trip winced. "I'm not so sure about that. It hasn't been quite the same between us after the Expanse," he replied tautly. "And he seemed so happy; I didn't want to risk puttin' him off."

"Now you are risking a good dressing down. And I too, incidentally; for letting you slip out of sight."

Trip stopped, forcing Malcolm to do the same. "I'm sorry if I made your life difficult today," he told him in earnest.

The grey eyes narrowed and searched his face for a long moment. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

Malcolm's communicator chirped, and he reached into his arm pocket for it.

"Reed."

"Lieutenant, we are making our way back to the Shuttlepod," T'Pol's voice said. "The Captain expects you to meet us there promptly."

Her tone had been unreadable, but not her choice of words.

Malcolm smirked in resignation. "Understood; Reed out."

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The first drops of rain began to fall. They were big and heavy, and hit the ground with a distinct drumming sound that went louder as the rain intensified.

Trip found it liberating. As if the sky would cry all the tears he had held back. The pressure in his chest eased.

He looked at Malcolm, who was still standing there, immobile for some reason. They were both getting wet.

"Come on," Trip said, with a grin. "It can't be much worse than that time we explored that automated station."

Malcolm looked at him darkly. But then his mouth curved into a smile too.

And they took off at a run.

THE END

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